When the ice breaks
by f.m. kit kat
Summary: Eragon is captured by Murtagh and is taken to Uru'baen. He is separated from Saphira and the Varden can't help him. What happens when the very man that captured him becomes his only ally? Eventually MurtaghXEragon. Rated M for lemons in later chapters
1. Chapter 1: panic

**Catch me, Change me**

**Summary: Eragon is captured by Murtagh and is taken to Uru'baen. He is separated from Saphira and the Varden can't help him. What happens when the very man that captured him becomes his only ally? Eventually MurtaghXEragon. Rated M for later chapters. This fanfic is for the books, not the movie.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own!**

Chapter 1 _Panic_

"_you never really know your friends from your enemies until the ice breaks" _

_~Eskimo proverb_

Eragon fought against the overwhelming torrent of power that was being thrown against his mind, threatening to drown him. It took every last scrap of what little strength he had left not to give in and let Murtagh overwhelm him. A hoarse cry erupted from his lips as the two of them traded blows. Above them, Saphira and Thorn flew at each other, ripping each other with tooth and claw, snarling from between their snapping teeth. Their swords clashed and behind the hissing metal Murtagh's eyes burned with anger and contempt. They were no longer the eyes of the friend he once travelled and fought beside, they were darkened with hatred.

Murtagh pushed their swords apart, slashing at Eragon with renewed fury. Eragon howled in pain as the metal sliced through flesh. A second later Murtagh's fist collided with his jaw in a resounding _crack_, sending him to the ground. He didn't have time to catch his breath as a boot smashed into his ribs. All he could manage were desperate wheezing pants. Murtagh stood over him, a dark figure against the grey sky. Eragon thought he faintly heard Saphira shout his name. Then Murtagh was swinging his sword down at him.

Eragon jerked awake, his breathing hard and fast, heart pounding almost out of his chest. His eyes flashed around wildly. He took huge gulps of air, slowing his breathing and heart rate. A groan escaped him when he tried to push himself up, reminding him that his dream had been real. The wounds and bruises that were scatted across his body flared as he finally managed to sit up. This was _not_ his tent. Grey stone walls surrounded him. The only furniture in the room was the small bed he was sitting on. Fear clutched at him. He pushed away harshly. Maybe they had simply taken him to a doctor away from the battlefield for safety.

A soft tinkling sound interrupted his thoughts. His head whipped down to see a thick black manacle wrapped around his wrist, chaining him to the bed. A similar one was fastened to his other wrist. This time the panic was too great for Eragon to push down. He tried to climb out of bed, but the chains were too short to allow him to do more than sit up. He felt warm liquid stain the white bandages that covered him as his wounds opened from the sudden movement. Eragon hardly noticed. The panic built up in him almost unbearably. He had to let it out. A scream ripped itself from his lungs and he started yelling for help, his hoarse cries reverberating off the stone. The door to his room smashed open and a man he didn't recognize rushed over to him. Eragon's terror doubled and he started fighting against the man, blindly thrashing and punching and clawing. Then, a sudden darkness surrounded him as he lost consciousness.

**To be Continued...**


	2. Chapter 2: submission

**When the ice breaks**

**Second Chapter! Sorry the first one was so short! This story takes place sometime between when Eragon leaves Ellesmera to help the Varden and the battle of the burning planes. Eragon and Murtagh are not brothers in this fic, just friends like before Murtagh was absconded with. Reviews much appreciated since I don't know if this story is utter crap, good, or just kinda there. **

**Warnings: some swearing**

**Disclaimers: Don't own!**

Chapter 2 _submission_

"_You and I were long friends: you are now my enemy, and I am yours."_

_~ Benjamin Franklin_

Murtagh frowned slightly at the faint echo of a scream that entered the room. Maybe it was just his imagination, but he thought it sounded like Eragon. Why would Eragon be screaming? It wasn't like he was being tortured or anything. Galbatorix had looked toward the source of the sound as well. He was probably contacting one of his pet magicians to find out what the problem was. After a few minutes the king looked back at Murtagh. A falsely sweet smile appeared on his face.

"Was it Eragon," Murtagh asked, already knowing the answer.

Amusement colored the king's voice "It seems our guest has woken up. He was confused as to where he was and subsequently suffered a panic attack." Murtagh's frown deepened. Was Eragon really so weak that he couldn't handle waking up in a strange place without having a freaking heart attack? It disgusted him. Galbatorix's eyes twinkled briefly in amusement, as if he knew the young rider's thoughts, which he probably did considering how much the other man poked around in his head.

"Why don't you go keep an eye on him? You're the only one in the castle he's familiar with. Perhaps you can keep him calm long enough to explain to him where he is."

Murtagh glared at him and spat, "I'd rather not." Galbatorix's face darkened slightly and he said Murtagh's true name in a dangerous voice. Hearing it sent a cold shiver down his spine. He hated his true name, not just because it kept him imprisoned here, but also because it filled him with self loathing.

He stood before Galbatorix attached an order to that name and said, "I'm going." He made it three strides before the king spoke again in that dangerous voice, "How do you talk to a king?" Another shiver ran down Murtagh's spine. He turned slowly to face the king and bowed his head submissively.

"I will do as you say, your majesty."

It still killed him to submit to this madman, but by now his survival instincts ruled his pride. All that mattered to him now was that Thorn and he survived. He waited for the king to acknowledge him so he could leave.

"Good boy," Galbatorix said smugly, "you may go." Murtagh straightened and without another word left the room. Once he was out in the hallway, he slowly let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. His hatred for Galbatorix was enough to keep him from being intimidated by the king, except when he used that tone. That tone meant punishment, which ranged from skipped meals and isolation to varying forms of torture. The worst part of the punishments was that Thorn was always separated from him, both mentally and physically. Thorn was the only thing he had left and he cherished the dragon almost more than his own life. This bond made them stronger and helped keep them alive, but it also gave Galbatorix something to use against them.

Murtagh grumbled to himself irritably when he reached the cell Eragon was being kept in. Two soldiers stood guarding the door and a magician sat in a chair against the stone wall. Murtagh stopped in front of the guards and said in an annoyed voice, "The king sent me to check on him," he nodded his head at the locked door, "and calm him down since he knows me."

The magician stood and said, "Good, because I couldn't get through to him at all. When I heard him start yelling for help and for someone to 'let him out' I went in to find out what was wrong. He was barely able to breathe because of his panic attack and when I tried to get him to calm down he just fought me off. I had to put him under a sleeping spell to prevent him from hurting himself." Murtagh nodded and looked back at the guards who quickly stepped out of his way and opened the door for him. The door was secured once again after he entered the small stone room.

Eragon lay on a small bed in front of him. Fresh bandages covered his chest and shoulder where Murtagh had stabbed him. Two black chains fastened him to the bed by his wrists. In addition to the manacles, a black magic suppression collar hung around his neck. A moan escaped the sleeping teen and he tossed his head, fighting off a nightmare. Murtagh frowned and leaned forward to study his former friend's face. It was different than his memories of Eragon, yet the base characteristics were the same. He was, Murtagh thought, for lack of a better word, beautiful. It was as if an artist had smoothed out his features, made them longer, more feline. Eragon whimpered in his sleep, twisting his face in a pained expression and turned his head to the side revealing a pointed ear. Murtagh's eyes widened slightly.

"What the hell," he muttered. Eragon moaned in reply. Murtagh sighed. _Better get this over with, _he thought grimly and released the sleeping spell. After a few more moans, Eragon's body relaxed and he opened his eyes slowly. When he saw Murtagh his eyes flew open and he bolted upright in bed swearing vehemently.

"What the hell are _you_ doing here," he spat. Behind the anger, Murtagh saw the barely disguised fear in Eragon's eyes, and something else. It took him a moment to identify the other emotion. It was pain, hurt and accusation, and most of all betrayal. Part of him supposed he deserved the look, but the other part reared up in anger. It wasn't like he had _chosen_ to join Galbatorix of his own free will! He narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the wall.

He growled, "I'm here to keep you from having another panic attack and to explain where you are." Eragon just continued to glare at him. The two fought with their eyes until finally Eragon looked away. Murtagh felt a thrill of satisfaction at the small victory. For once, he wasn't the one forced to submit. Eragon glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

"So where the hell am I?" he demanded bitterly.

"In Uru'baen," said Murtagh flatly, "In a cell in Galbatorix's castle." Eragon's eyes widened. "You're not going to faint on me, are you?" Murtagh sneered. The glare returned to the other teen's face and Murtagh felt a small smile tug at the corner of his mouth. It surprised him. He hadn't smiled since his abduction and here after exchanging a few sentences with the hot headed rider he had smiled so _easily._ He shook his head and smoothed his features back under his usual mask.

"Where's Saphira," Eragon snarled, more fear filling his eyes.

"Will you stay calm if I tell you?" Eragon nodded slowly, his body tense with suspicion. "After I defeated you and took off on Thorn with your unconscious body she gave furious chase. We intended to lead her into the empire and then capture her as well, but she seemed to figure out our plan because she stopped chasing us. It must have been extremely hard for her to leave you behind because she kept howling this sorrowful call. I just let her go. I'm assuming she'll come to rescue you and then I don't have to figure out how to transport a dragon here." The sorrow that had been in Saphira's howls now resided in Eragon's eyes.

"Why? Why did you do this," the other teen asked in a low voice. He seemed close to tears, something Murtagh did _not_ want to deal with.

He growled, "Why? Because the king bloody ordered me to! He knows my true name Eragon! I didn't have a fucking choice! If he were to order me to jump off a bloody bridge I'd have no choice but to comply!" That got the other rider's attention. He shrank back slightly at the force of the anger Murtagh was expelling. Murtagh took a deep breath and looked away for a moment. He'd slipped up. After over a year of hiding his emotions behind a mask, he had shattered it. What was it about Eragon that could set him off so easily? He fought to compose himself once again.

"Sorry," murmured Eragon, "I didn't know." Murtagh crossed his arms.

"I'd save the pity for yourself. The same thing's going to happen to you soon enough." Murtagh was really starting to get annoyed by the constant fear welling up in the other teen's eyes. He missed the determined edge he remembered from so long ago. Eragon was silent for a second, then a frown pulled at his high arched eyebrows.

"Why can't I use magic? My head's not groggy so I can't be drugged."

"The king put a spell on that collar you're wearing that acts like a barrier to energy released when you cast a spell." Eragon's frown deepened as he reached up to gingerly tough the ring of black metal that encircled his neck. "It's kinda like a black hole that sucks in energy released during the use of magic. The spell is also set up to draw its power from you, not the king, so if you try to cast a spell you'll feel the toll of both the magic you cast and the magic preventing the spell from being completed. You'll still be able to communicate with your mind, though, like talking to Saphira." Murtagh could see the hope his last sentence brought to Eragon's eyes.

A forceful mental touch prodded Murtagh's mind, distracting him. It was the one man he _had_ to let into his head, not that he could stop him either way. He barred his teeth and forced himself to lower his mental walls. He suppressed a shudder as the king slipped past his defenses. The smirk was evident in Galbatorix's voice when he spoke.

"See how much easier it is when you _let_ me in?" He chuckled. "How is our _guest_ doing?" Murtagh forced his reply to remain neutral.

"He's calm now. I told him where he is and explained the suppression collar to him."

"Good. I'm coming down to have a little chat with him to get to know him better. Prepare him for my visit so I don't go all the way down there just to have him pass out." Murtagh somehow managed to keep his thoughts about that to himself and replied, "Yes, your _majesty._" spitting the last word in distaste.

"So it is possible for you to learn some manners after all." Galbatorix pulled out of his mind. Murtagh sighed in relief and threw his mental wall back up around him. He focused his attention back on Eragon. The other teen raised an eyebrow.

"Galbatorix is coming down to meet you, which probably means he's going to shuffle through your mind to try and figure out your true name." Instead of the utter fear Murtagh expected to deal with from Eragon, he was surprised to find the other teens face hardened with determination. Those were the eyes he knew. Eyes that said he would give his all or die trying. Unfortunately, dying wasn't the worst thing that could happen if he lost this fight.

"What's gotten into you," asked Murtagh. Eragon glared at him.

"I thought about all the things this bastard has done to me. I'm not going to just lay down cowering like a scared puppy and let him force me into submission. I probably wont win, but if I can pay him back even a little before I go down it'll be worth it. At least I'll go down swinging." Murtagh smirked. For all his big talk, he could see the fear hidden under Eragon's attitude.

"Big talk, but you're still scared shitless," he sneered.

Eragon growled, "Like you weren't when you were dragged in front of the king."

"Not at all. My anger overrode my fear." This seemed to deepen Eragon's anger. The truth was he had been scared shitless, but he'd never admit it to the other rider. Anyway, it wasn't like he had a panic attack or anything. He was stronger than that. He had gone down kicking and screaming like a cornered beast.

Both teens' heads snapped to the door as it opened. Murtagh's features quickly smoothed under his mask and Eragon's hands clenched in the sheets on his bed. King Galbatorix strode into the room. A victorious smile spread across his face as he took in the young dragon rider that sat chained to the bed in front of him. It was the smile of a predator.

"Welcome Eragon _Shade Slayer_," he said, sarcasm coloring his voice. Eragon clenched his teeth, utter fury wrinkling his features.

"Go fuck yourself Galbatorix," he snarled. Murtagh was surprised at Eragon's vocabulary. He had never been one to swear much when they had traveled together, and to say that to the king's face. Maybe he wasn't such a wuss after all.

"Murtagh," Galbatorix said calmly, "you may leave." Murtagh pushed himself away from the wall he had been leaning on and, giving Eragon one last glance, left the room. The door shut behind him, cutting off Eragon's snarling yell. The question now was how long it would take him to break.

**To be Continued...**


	3. Chapter 3: mirror image

**Third Chapter! Sorry it's so short. Kinda a filler chapter. Galbatorix will figure out Eragon's true name in the next one and there will be a lime, so it'll pick up. Enjoy and Review!**

**Warnings: none**

**Disclaimer: Do Not Own!**

**Dragon speaking: **_**italics**_

Chapter 3: _mirror image_

"_The face of the enemy frightens me only when I see how much it resembles me."_

_~ Author Unknown_

Flashes of the last couple of hours replayed in Eragon's mind. Galbatorix had assaulted his mind in an overwhelming tsunami of force. Murtagh's mental assault during their battle now seemed like a spring breeze compared to the tornado that was Galbatorix. It had only taken the king a couple of seconds to break through Eragon's barriers. After that he had rooted around in Eragon's head as he pleased, swatting down the occasional attacks Eragon made on him.

Eventually he had had enough of the teen's struggling and started ripping at his most private memories painfully. He had forced Eragon to watch first Garrow's death, then Brom's, and finally Murtagh's supposed death and betrayal. Then, he would make him watch them all over again. After four cycles of watching his most painful memories, Eragon broke down crying and curled up in a mental ball. The king stopped playing the loop and continued to examine the young riders memories, ignoring Eragon.

After a couple minutes, Eragon managed to recover and started assaulting Galbatorix again. The consequence was the painful memory loop playing over and over again, except this time it also included the time Eragon had deeply disappointed Brom by attacking the group of urgals, passing out because of it, and the pain of having to leave his home behind. The loop played until once again Eragon broke down and crawled into a mental corner.

This routine continued for the rest of the day. Each time Eragon rebelled more painful memories were added to the loop. When Galbatorix ran out of emotionally painful memories to add, he started perusing Eragon's collection of physically painful memories, such as how it felt when Durza had laid his back open during their battle. It got harder and harder for Eragon to get back up after each loop, but he reused to give up and let Galbatorix win. When he couldn't fight any more for his own personal vengeance, he thought about how Saphira, Arya, Nausuada, Oromis, Brom, and all the other important people in his life would feel if he gave up. When that wasn't enough to sustain him, he thought about the millions of people in the empire who would lose the little hope they had left if he were to fall to Galbatorix.

When Galbatorix pulled out of his head, Eragon lay panting on his bed. A mixture of sweat and tears covered his body.

Galbatorix smiled down at him and said, "I think that's enough for now," implying he'd be back. Without another word, he left the room, locking the door behind him.

Eragon shivered at the memory and pulled the sheets up around himself. Somehow he had managed to keep himself together through this session, but he was close to the breaking point and wasn't sure he'd last another round. He felt empty and violated. It was now more than ever that he wished Saphira was here. She had always been his comfort, someone he could trust entirely. But she wasn't here, and he was alone, locked up in a castle with a madman. Exhaustion clawed at him after his long mental battle and the various wounds that had reopened earlier, but he couldn't bring himself to sleep. He felt like any minute Galbatorix or one of his magicians would burst in and attack him. It was going to be a long night.

x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

Murtagh lay next to Thorn on their giant bed that was built into the floor. He couldn't sleep. Every time his eyes closed images of Eragon screaming filled his head. Sometimes he replaced Eragon as Galbatorix ripped through his mind. The memories of when it had been him laying on that bed haunted him. He knew all too well what it was like being chained up while your last defenses were torn away from you. A soft puff of air blew his long bangs into his face. He looked up at Thorn who was staring at him with unblinking garnet eyes. The dragon lowered his head and nudged Murtagh's cheek with his nose.

_He is very similar to you. _

"That's the problem," murmured Murtagh absentmindedly, "I can't help but feel sorry for him, because I know what he's going through."

_That's called empathy._ Murtagh frowned at him. "I know, but..." he trailed off, not sure how to express his frustration.

_You don't have to express your feelings out loud. I can feel them. I think you need to figure out where things stand between you and Eragon. _

"There's nothing to sort out. He hates me. I hate him. That's it."

_Then why are you so concerned about him? _Murtagh didn't respond. He had no idea why he couldn't stop thinking about what the brunette was going through. Maybe it was because deep down he'd wished there had been someone there for him when he had gone through it, and maybe even deeper he didn't hate the other rider as much as he thought he did. Maybe, just maybe, he wished their relationship could have stayed intact. Perhaps it wasn't too late to repair it.

**To be Continued...**


	4. AN

**Author's Note:**

**Sorry to all of you who jumped for joy thinking this was an update. Please don't hurt me. **

**I went through the story so far and, as I'm sure you guys noticed right away, I realized it is moving way to fast and skipping a lot of major steps for Eragon and Murtagh's relationship to develop. That being said I revised the story time line heavily and am going to start posting new chapters following that story line. I can't guarantee that the revised story line will be better, which is why I need you guys to REVIEW and let me know what you thinks good and what needs work or doesn't make sense.**

**To those of you who liked the lime and lemon chapters do not despair! I will post them as a separate two-shot story pwp rather than deleting them completely.**

**I hope you enjoy the rest of the story! :)**


	5. Chapter 4: betrayal

**A/N: This is the first chapter of the newly revised story line. The first part is the same as the original chapter, but the second part's different. Sorry it's so short. I'll try to update soon. Hope you like it! Review, review, review! :)**

**Warnings: none**

**Disclaimer: Don't own!**

Chapter 4: betrayal

"Love is whatever you can still betray. Betrayal can only happen if you love." ~John le Carre

Eragon jumped when the door to his cell opened. Galbatorix strode into the room, a victorious smile plastered on his face. Eragon tensed, preparing for the king to start their usual routine. The last three days had been a blur of mental sparring and emotional scarring. He wasn't ready for them to start up again, but he wouldn't lie down and give up either. He glared at the king, waiting for him to make his move, but he simply stood at the foot of the bed smiling. Eragon frowned slightly, a feeling of unease straining his nerves. Galbatorix said a combination of three words in the ancient language, causing a shiver to run up Eragon's spine. It felt like an invisible collar had tightened around his neck when the king had uttered those words. He felt like he was going to throw up.

"That, Eragon, is your true name."

Eragon shook his head slowly, eyes widening with a mixture of fear and disbelief. The king's smile deepened at his obvious distress. The following process of forcing Eragon to swear loyalty to Galbatorix and other oaths in the ancient language that would prevent him from leaving the castle or trying to contact people outside of it was long and painful. When it was finally complete Galbatorix had one of the soldiers remove the shackles on Eragon's wrists. He rubbed them where the metal had bruised the skin.

"What about the collar," he asked hoarsely.

The king replied, "I'm not sure I trust you with magic quite yet. You'll have to earn that freedom." Eragon glared at him fiercely. Galbatorix ignored the look. "Murtagh will show you to your room. You have free reign of the castle and its grounds, but that's it." With that Galbatorix left and Murtagh entered the room.

"Come on," he said softly. Eragon frowned slightly and followed him out of the cell. Why was Murtagh speaking so, gently? The last time he had seen the other rider, Murtagh had been switching between an angry tone and a neutral one, but never a gentle one. Was it because they were now in the same boat? Anger and indignation rose at the thought, but he forced it down. He didn't need sympathy from the very friend that betrayed him. That had seemed to revel in his downfall and in the killing of Hrothgar, the king of the dwarfs.

The two of them walked down the hallway in silence, Murtagh seeming to ignore the ill tempered rider. After a few forks, they came to a tall spiral staircase that rose up into one of the many glass and stone spiral turrets the elves had built long before the foresworn had taken the city. Eragon was glad that he would be staying in the original elven part of the castle instead of the portion the king had added on to.

Four stories up, a door began to appear every two stories. Eragon hoped they would reach their destination soon. After his battle with Murtagh and his confinement his muscles were stiff and his wounds ached and throbbed fiercely with each step as they climbed the multitude of stairs. Finally, after what seemed like hours the red rider paused in front of a door that had a sapphire embedded in the wood and opened it.

The room was spacious, round and brightly lit from the dying sunlight streaming in through the glass walls. In the center resided a giant blue cushion bed built into the floor, much like the one he and Saphira had shared in their treehouse during their stay in Ellesmera. A feeling of loss welled up in Eragon when he realized how empty the huge bed would be without her. It felt like part of his heart, his very soul, had been ripped from him and carried far across the land out of his reach. He absently wandered to the glass wall that made up two thirds of the circular wall and stared out blankly at the city below. He felt numb and sick at the same time.

Eragon barely registered Murtagh's gruff voice, "The valves for filling the bath are behind the wood panel next to it. The closet is behind the wood panel across the room from the bath." With that the red rider left, shutting the door quietly behind him. Eragon didn't move. What was he going to do now? The people of Alagaesia that lived throughout the land spread out before him were counting on him. He was their hope for a better life and that hope was now in the king's clutches.

If that wasn't bad enough, he could also be forced at any time to stand against the Varden. Images of his friends hurt and betrayed faces flashed before his eyes. Orik's face white with shock as Eragon destroyed him like Murtagh had done to his predecessor on the burning planes. Nasuada with tears of pain and rage in her eyes as she was forced to order catapults to launch at him only to have them blown away. And worst of all, Aya with her smooth white skin stained with her own blood, once fierce green eyes dull staring blankly up at him, dead at his feet. Eragon shuddered, shaking his head to clear away the images of his friends's deaths.

A timid knock on the door made Eragon jump and he turned in time to see a young servant boy open the door and enter the room. He was an odd mix of emotions. His body shook with fear, but deep in the boys eyes Eragon could see accusation and loss of hope. Was this how Murtagh felt when people learned of his parentage? The accusation in the boy's eyes bit deep into his already aching heart.

"His majesty requests your presence for dinner," the boy said quietly, looking down at the floor. Rage and hatred instantly welled up inside Eragon ripping to get out and attack the king for imprisoning him here and for all the wrongs he had committed against him and his loved ones. He hadn't felt such strong hatred, such a need, a want, to kill since he had first set out to kill the ra'zac. His fury must have been apparent in his body language because the servant boy took a step back to cower by the door.

With a great deal of effort Eragon managed to ground out, "Tell his majesty that I will never willingly enter the same room as him, let alone have dinner with him."

The king was taking things too far. Eragon understood his position, yet the king still sought to gloat and remind him of how he was now completely helpless and one of his newest slaves. If Galbatorix wanted him to have dinner with him, he would have to drag Eragon there with his true name or an entire platoon of soldiers. The servant boy quickly nodded and turned to run out the door only to be stopped by Murtagh's outstretched arm.

The red rider looked down at the trembling servant calmly and said firmly, "Tell the king we'll both be down for dinner shortly." The boy nodded fervently again and Murtagh allowed him to make his escape down the stairs. Eragon glared at his former best friend, a mixture of hurt and betrayal adding to his already seething emotions. Murtagh returned the fiery look calmly.

"I'm not going. I'll die before I do anything Galbatorix requests of me willingly," Eragon spat. Murtagh frowned slightly.

"You don't have to like it, but if you want any chance of escaping you'll do it. The longer you openly defy Galbatorix, the longer you don't have magic, a sword, or the ability to leave the castle. You'll just get beaten, tortured, and starved and that wont do anyone any good, especially Saphira. I hate it too, but I do it because it keeps Thorn and me safe."

Eragon continued to glare at him, obviously wrestling with his inner beast of rage and his pride. Murtagh was afraid the stubborn rider would still refuse to go to dinner willingly when the younger looked down at the floor and muttered a barely audible "fine." The red rider relaxed slightly as Eragon slouched over to the door.

"Eragon," Murtagh said bluntly. Said rider looked up at him, a light frown on his face. Murtagh would've laughed any other time at the adorable childish pout on the younger rider's face, but now was not the time. He continued, "You can't go to dinner dressed like that." Eragon's frown deepened and he looked down, immediately seeing the problem as he took in his blood and sweat stained clothes he had worn on his way to the burning planes. Murtagh walked over to a section of the wood wall and popped open the panel that hid the closet. He rifled through it until he found a finely embroidered set of blue nobleman's court robes, much like his own crimson ones. Eragon frowned but didn't say anything as he took the clothes from Murtagh and laid them on the small blue couch that was set between the closet and the bed.

Eragon gingerly pulled off his soiled shirt and then his pants, wincing occasionally when the scabs on his wounds were stretched and cracked beneath the bandages. Murtagh felt a slight urge to help the blue rider, but it was quickly erased by the anger and pain he felt toward him. The year of being locked up at the mercy of the king while Eragon roamed free had slowly built a mixture of hate and blame in him towards the younger rider. Before he had been sent to capture Eragon, his feelings had built up to such a degree that he blamed Eragon for his current situation of servitude to the mad king.

He felt his body tense again as those feelings returned. He knew logically that he himself had wanted to prove himself loyal to the Varden when he had went into that god-forsaken hole to hunt urgals with Ajihad, but that knowledge was hardly a match for a lifetime of hurt and anger. Somewhere deep inside him, Murtagh felt guilty for blaming Eragon for the miseries of his life. He wished desperately that they could go back to the way they had been, free, traveling across Alagaesia, and most of all friends.

Eragon had been the only one to ever trust him fully and be willing to give up his life for him, the son of Morzan. He wanted that relationship, that trust and camaraderie, back but the strain of the last year was too raw and fresh. Murtagh wasn't sure his hurt would ever heal enough to fix things with Eragon, but he had surprised himself when he stepped in to stop the hot headed rider from getting himself into trouble with Galbatorix. He had thought he didn't care, but here he was saving Eragon's ass. Perhaps there was hope after all.

**To Be Continued...**


	6. Chapter 5: cornered

**New chapter! I tried to give you guys a longer one this time. Hopefully the next chapter will be done soon too. Sorry if anyone seems OOC or random. Enjoy and Review! :)**

Disclaimer: don't own

Chapter 5: _cornered_

_"The way to love anything is to realize that it might be lost."_

_-G. K. Chesterton  
><em>

Murtagh had to admit the blue robes suited eragon. They fit his figure perfectly and he would have looked quite handsome if it weren't for the anger burning in his eyes. Murtagh had always enjoyed eragon's determination to win or his anger at being teased, even his protective fury if one of his loved ones was being hurt, but this was different. The emotion that burned black in once honey colored eyes was a mixture of pure unbridled fury, fear, and hatred. It was the look of a cornered beast with nothing to lose. It didn't belong on eragon's features. Bitter resentment filled Murtagh at what Eragon had been forced to become. With a pang he remembered he had been a part of the process and sense of self loathing seeped into his veins.

_you were under orders by galbatorix_, thorn reminded him softly.

Murtagh ignored him. Although the king had forced him to capture Eragon with his true name, he had lost his head in the fight. When he had fought Eragon and started to gain the advantage, his friend's face had become Galbatorix's. He had relished overpowering him and in the process had almost killed Eragon as a result. No matter the reason, the actions were still his own. He loved Thorn, but he didn't need pity or excuses at the moment.

Excuses were things that made you weak. You either did something or you didn't and took responsibility for your actions. That was what Tornac had always taught him and it was one of the rules he lived by. He wouldn't go soft now. Besides Eragon was the one who should be feeling regret. He was the one who had left murtagh to rot in the king's palace. Anger and blame reared their ugly heads, but he shoved them down viscously. Blame was a weakness too and deep in his heart he knew Eragon probably hadn't known about his capture. The look on the younger rider's face at their reunion had said as much.

* * *

><p>Eragon didn't pay attention to the various stone hallways they passed as Murtagh lead the way deeper into the heart of the castle. He was too bothered to care which way they went. His stomach lurched and gnawed at itself, getting steadily worse the closer they got to their destination and the king. The overpowering urge to run and fight at the same time wrestled inside him, pulling him in two directions at once. What was wrong with him? He had never doubted himself before, never felt so utterly helpless. Eragon's frown deepened as he tried to push his fear away, but it clung to him like the invisible collar Galbatorix had placed around his neck when he had uttered those three simple words. He stopped his train of thought before it lead him back to his sleepless nights chained to a mattress in a cell, waiting for the king's mental attacks.<p>

His body was strung taught, ready for battle, every sinew remembering all the training he had done in order to kill the king and free Alegeasia. But his mind remembered the torment of losing his freedom and what it felt for the other man to root around in his head like rusted barbwire and control his body to force him into submission. Eragon grit his teeth in frustration. How was he supposed to kill someone he couldn't even step willingly into the same room as?

Eragon's thoughts were interrupted when Murtagh stopped before a pair of huge oak doors. Intricate carvings of dragons performing aerial combat soared and twisted across the wood's surface, breathing fire and snapping sharp teeth. Eragon's breath left his body. It wasn't the violent scene of the rider's fall that bothered him but the thick darkness that seemed to seep from underneath the door, as if the king's black magic was oozing through the walls.

Murtagh glanced at him with a strange look on his face and Eragon quickly pulled himself back together, using his anger as fuel. The last thing he needed was to look like a scared rabbit in the presence of a wolf, and that's exactly what his former friend's face said he looked like. He wasn't sure, but he swore he saw the ghost of a smile on Murtagh's face at his change in demeanor. Then it was gone and the doors were opening to reveal a gigantic banquet hall filled with a dizzying rainbow array of nobles sitting along either side of a table that stretched the length of the room. The table ended at the foot of a marble pedestal on which king galbatorix sat on his black velvet throne adorned in a black set of robes that matched the style of the ones Murtagh and Eragon were wearing.

Eragon inwardly shuttered at the sinister smile the king gave him. It was a look of a cat to a cornered mouse. Dangerous, victorious, and one of ownership. Eragon glared at him, gritting his teeth and wishing he could tear that smug grin off the king's face. Galbatorix ignored the look and announced in a rich voice that sounded like poisoned honey, "I welcome you Eragon _shadeslayer_ to uru'baen and the empire's cause. Please. Take your rightful place at the table as a warrior for peace in the empire, a dragon rider, and the head of what will soon be the rebirth of a new order of riders along with your dragon saphira." The nobles in the room had all silenced at the king's words and turned their heads to inspect the farm boy rider who was to take a higher place at the table than them _the nobility_. Eragon didn't even notice their disapproving looks.

He snarled, "I may be in your castle and your robes, but you would daft to think that I would ever willingly fight for your madness, your tyranny. I stand here only because you have bound me in chains so tight that I cannot move. My allegiances will never be to you. That is one freedom you cannot take away from me no matter how tightly you bind me."

* * *

><p>Murtagh stirred at Eragon's words. The young brunet had his teeth bared and fire in his eyes. That was the Eragon he remembered. And the one he had missed. That thought startled him, but the truth of it was not lost on him.<p>

_But how long will that fire last before Galbatorix extinguishes it,_ his sinical inner voice sneered, _it didn't take long for him to crush you into obedience._ Murtagh's fists tightened unconsciously. That had been when thorn had hatched for him. The threat of something happening to the little cat sized fireball had been enough to quench his rebellion overnight.

_It'll be the same for Eragon when Galbatorix catches Saphira_, the voice taunted, _and you know its only a matter of time before he does._

Murtagh pushed the voice away fiercely. If anyone could endure the king, it was Eragon. A subtle feeling of warmth and support emanated through his bond with Thorn and he was grateful for it. Thorn understood him better than anyone and knew he needed comfort without words. No soft reassuring assumptions, or berating , or contempt. Just feeling and silence. Language beyond words.

* * *

><p>Galbatorix chuckled darkly, waving away Eragon's words with the flick of his wrist, though Eragon could see swirling fury in the black depths of the king's eyes.<p>

"My boy, I'm afraid you're confused after your long time with the Varden and their brainwashing habits," the king said smoothly, like warm soothing bath water lapping gently against his mind. This was the silver tongue Murtagh had told him of. The king continued, "you are stressed and upset from your long journey here and I can understand that. I am in no hurry to rush you into your role. Please understand that the reason I 'chained' you as you say is because I needed to ensure that you didn't cause any further damage to the people of our great nation. This war brings violence to good, innocent people's lives. It destroys their homes and their livelihoods, kills their children. With you removed from the battlefield I can guarantee that villages are not obliterated off the map needlessly in a matter of hours. At least now the people of the empire will only have to worry about men and not a dragon and her rider attacking them. I am sorry for tying you to the castle, but it is an action I take towards stopping this rebellion and returning peace to our great nation. Now enough talk of such troubling matters. I am sure you are hungry, so come and feast."

Eragon's glare deepened and he locked his muscles in place. He would've just stayed where he was if it weren't for Murtagh giving him a little nudge to the small of his back, reminding him why he had to do this. Grudgingly he followed the red rider's example and made his way to the head of the table repeating the same venomous insults in his head over and over: _Lier. Murderer. Tyron._ It made him fell slightly better, but he knew the king couldn't hear the words.

Murtagh took the seat to the king's right, leaving the seat across from him for Eragon. The older rider's face was blank, but Eragon could see how being forced to have a civilized dinner with the king was taking its toll on him. He knew full well the strain it took on his self control.

The table was filled with enough food to feed all of Carvahall for a week. Plates piled high with pheasant, venicen, and pork were carried around to all the guests by various servants. Eragon wrinkled his nose at the meat offered to him and declined, feeling nauseous as he thought about how many animal's had lost their lives to fuel the king's extravagance. He chose instead to pick out a variety of fruits and vegetables to fill his plate.

Murtagh took an assortment of meat off a plate offered to him and started eating. As soon as the red rider had taken what he wanted the servant left as quickly as he could to serve another guest. Murtagh didn't even seem to notice the frightened servant as he dug into his food, all too used to the shroud of fear that surrounded him.

It was painful to watch Murtagh shut out the world like that when he had just started to become praised instead of feared during his time in the Varden. Now he was back to being simply morzan's son, feared and despised. Eragon felt the urge to reach out to him and be that one person again who didn't judge him based on his father. But his wounds were still fresh and sore and so was the scabbed over scar on his heart. A vision of Murtagh towering over him, sword drawn, a murderous pleasure deep in his eyes as he snarled and drove his sword into his shoulder flashed through his mind. How could help Murtagh if he wasn't even sure if he could trust him?

Dinner passed silently between the king and the two riders, the only noise in the room being the polite chatting of the various nobles at the table. Eragon refused to take his eyes off his plate as he ate, glaring a hole through a pile of green beans, and only ate what was necessary to sustain him. The various deserts were left untouched, despite their mouthwatering aromas. Murtagh was likewise silent, but more like he had automatically gone into an iron box to shut everything out than to defy the king. Again, eragon felt the automatic urge to reach out to him, but once again the throbbing of his wounds held him back.

How long was this tug-a-war going to last? He was surprised to find that he was secretly hoping the fight would end with them closer. _I don't want to lose him_, thought eragon in awe, then almost blushed when he realized how romantic and cliché that thought sounded. But no matter how he phrased it, deep down he could feel the truth of it in his body. He felt drawn to the other rider deeper than mere friendship. It was almost like murtagh was safety and security. Like the bond they had had before Murtagh had been captured. When he was with murtagh and they were fighting together, back to back, covering each others weak points they were invincible, unconquerable. _I'd do just about anything to get that back_, thought Eragon.

* * *

><p>When dinner ended and they were excused, the king merely told eragon to think about joining the empire's fight for peace. The gentle parent-like words combined with the lack of torture told him one thing: Galbatorix was trying to win him over. The idea of following the king's orders willingly with complete loyalty made eragon want to be sick. Maybe being locked up in a dungeon <em>would<em> be better than this. At least there the king would show his true face.

As soon as the king was done speaking Murtagh turned on his heels and quickly strode to the door. Eragon turned and followed him at an equally quick pace, but not before he caught a glimpse of a sadistically amused smirk cover the kings features as he watched the scarred rider flee. A cat letting its prey escape only to pull it back in by the tail. Eragon shuddered at the cruelty that lay in that twisted black mind. Maybe it wasn't completely murtagh's fault he had turned on him.

Eragon hurried after the red rider, leaving the banquet hall through the door Murtagh had taken only to be met with an empty corridor... great. He quickly glanced both directions in hope of some sign as to which way Murtagh had taken. Eragon swore silently. _I should have paid more attention to how we got here_, eragon thought miserably, chiding himself for being so stupid.

He was about to reach out with his mind when he remembered the king was sitting in the room behind him. If he reached out for Murtagh's mind he would end up brushing against the king's as well. Eragon shuddered at the thought of Galbatorix's cruel ripping touch and quickly scrapped the idea. No wonder Murtagh chose to keep his mind locked behind an impenetrable wall. It was hard to be angry at the older rider when he knew what he was going through first hand. Eragon shook off the thought and chose to dart down the corridor to the left and hoping it was the direction Murtagh had taken. There was no way he would be able to make it back on his own through the numerous twisting hallways that turned the castle into a labyrinth.

* * *

><p>Eragon followed the corridor for what seemed like an eternity until he was thoroughly lost. Where the hell had murtagh stormed off to? Just as he turned another corner he came a couple inches away from running smack into a man furnished in rich nobleman's clothes. He quickly apologized and attempted to skirt around the man, but the noble moved to block his way. Eragon paused and glared at the man, his battle blood stirring at the implied threat. The man was tall and thin with a neatly trimmed black beard accompanied by a hooked nose.<p>

He smiled cruelly, and said in a smooth voice, "You are the dragon rider Eragon, correct?" Eragon nodded, body tensing slightly. This man was dangerous. The man smiled, though it didn't seem to reach his eyes, and continued, "Well, then I must welcome you personally to the side that seeks peace and not war for our great empire." Eragon's immediate anger at the statement overrode his instincts and common sense.

"I will never willingly side with the king. He serves tyranny and destruction, not peace!" He growled. The man's smile only deepened.

"Well then I suppose it's up to me to help you understand your place here." The man raised his hand to backhand Eragon across the face, but with his elven speed and reflexes Eragon was able to catch it mid swing and land a punch in return, sending the noble toppling to the ground with a thud.

Fury boiled in Eragon's veins as he watched the noble touch his face slowly. The man's look of shock quickly turning to indignation and then anger. Eragon tensed again, waiting for the man's next move. The familiar thrill of adrenaline rushed through him and somewhere deeper in his heart he felt elation at being able to relieve some of his pent up frustration, his fear, his anger. It was new and scary and thrilling all at the same time. The victorious thrill was short lived as he was thrown into the rough stone wall behind him with a snarled word. Eragon's head cracked against the stone and he felt blood dampened his hair. He fought to recover and saw the noble stand, a twisted smile stretching his face as he strode toward the captured rider. Eragon snarled and began struggling against the invisible bonds that kept him pressed painfully against the ruff stone. If he could just use magic he could over power him! The noble stopped in front of Eragon to examine his captive.

"Now do you understand your position?" He asked coldly "you are helpless, powerless, without your magic and your dragon." A sudden wave of shock and fear swept through eragon as those words triggered memories of being chained down and helpless, galbatorix whispering those very same poison coated words in his ear. This time though, his panic turned into violence in an attempt to get away. He snarled and jerked himself forward to smash his head into the nobleman's, causing the man to howl and back up out of reach. Eragon hardly noticed as he continued thrashing madly like a crazed animal, desperate to take back control of his body.

"BASTARD!" He yelled along with a slew of insults. The noble got a hold of himself, fury burning in the dark brown depths of his eyes.

"You shouldn't have done that." He snarled. A second later Eragon's face was slammed sideways into the stone wall by a hard slap. The noble grabbed Eragon's head and pressed the side of his face into the stone harder, grinding the flesh.

"Do you understand now? No matter how hard you resist, you will be forced into submission." Eragon glared and spat on the noble's dark crimson and black robes. The man growled and raised his hand for another blow. Eragon closed his eyes, waiting for it's harsh sting.

* * *

><p>Murtagh stormed down the hallway towards the dragon keep, where he usually went when he was upset. Eating with the king always put him in a foul mood. Galbatorix loved to use dinner as an excuse to parade him around like a prize and a weapon in front of the nobles. And even worse, now he was doing it to Eragon too. Wait. Eragon. He stopped and looked behind him. No one was there.<p>

"Barzul," He cursed under his breath. He was sure the younger rider had been right behind him. Knowing eragon, he'd get himself into trouble if he didn't find him soon. There were a lot of people in the castle with a grudge against the Varden's rider. That and trouble seemed to follow the blue rider everywhere he went. Murtagh cursed again and hurried back the way he had come.

"Bastard!"

Murtagh paused his quick pace to listen. Was that eragon? A string of curses and insults faintly echoed down the hallway. Murtagh quickened his pace, following the obscenities. Relief filled him at finding the other rider, but in the back of his mind he knew it was never a good sign when eragon swore heavily. Someone else said something he couldn't make out and then there was a loud smacking sound. Murtagh wheeled around the corner just in time to see a black haired man backhand eragon into the stone wall. A burst of anger flooded his body and when the man raised his hand to deal another blow, he snarled a spell that picked up the man and flung him into the wall opposite Eragon.

Murtagh quickly ran over to Eragon. When he got close to him, Murtagh froze. Eragon was standing pressed to the wall, blood staining his hair and the stone behind him. His left cheek was scraped and bloody, his other cheek already starting to show signs of a large purple bruise forming on the fair skin. But what really shook murtagh was the barely concealed fear and panic hidden deep inside the other rider's eyes. How could he have let this happen?

"Eragon," murtagh said cautiously. The other rider seemed to shake himself into focusing on Murtagh. Relief and trust immediately shoved most of the fear in his eyes away, most of it anyway. The sudden desperate need in eragon's eyes startled him.

"Are you ok," Murtagh asked, pushing through the strange emotions swirling between them. Panic and desperation flashed through Eragon's eyes again and Murtagh immediately wished he hadn't asked.

"I can't move," Eragon ground out, then spat bitterly, "magic." Fury swelled in Murtagh instantly and he wheeled to face the man who had attacked Eragon.

"Release him," he ordered in a deadly tone that made the noble flinch. Murtagh heard a relieved sigh behind him from eragon as the spell was undone. He didn't take his eyes off the magician. He wanted to kill the nobleman, but the man wore the crimson and black robes of galbatorix's pet magicians. The king would not be pleased if one of them was killed and since Eragon had been in the fight with said magician, the blue rider would probably also be punished for the act.

Judging by the look of the man, Eragon had gotten in a few good blows before going down. That brought Murtagh some satisfaction, but he knew it would only bring the rider more trouble. Murtagh gritted his teeth and forced himself to leave the noble where he was crouched on the floor. He didn't want Eragon to suffer more than he already had at the hands of the king and that meant curbing his anger and killer intent. Since when did he care about someone else enough to put them before revenge? He shrugged off the thought. It was just because it was engrained in him to watch the other's back since he did such a shitty job of it himself. That was all.

Eragon looked a lot better than before. The panic of being trapped and tied down was slowly leaving his eyes to be replaced by his usual determination and a burning anger. Murtagh quickly grabbed his arm and began to lead him down the hallway. If he couldn't kill the damn magician, then Eragon couldn't either. Surprisingly, Eragon let him lead him away without argument.

"This isn't over," snarled the noble from his position on the floor.

Murtagh stopped and, before eragon could do something stupid, growled, "Yes it is." Then he continued down the hallway dragging Eragon behind him. Murtagh grit his teeth together in an effort to contain the anger boiling under his skin. Why was he so upset about this? The frustration of his confusing emotions was really starting to piss him off.

_You are upset because of how deeply you care for him_, came Thorn's deep rumbling voice.

I have never felt like this before around people I like, Murtagh argued back bluntly. Thorn sighed. _Be calm young one. The reason you feel this way is because you don't simply like him, but LOVE him. You are afraid of losing him, that is why you are so upset. Think of how you felt when Tornac died. It is the same. Think on it young one._ Murtagh shoved the thought to the back of his mind for later.

"You can let go now," Eragon said, breaking through his thoughts. Murtagh stopped and realized he was still dragging Eragon around by his arm. The younger rider was looking away awkwardly. He looked so innocent and cute like that, as if he was still a clueless farm boy. Wait- did he just say cute? What the hell was wrong with him? He quickly let go of Eragon's arm, immediately noticing the loss of warmth beneath his fingertips. He almost missed it, but he shook himself and started climbing the stairs that wound up the spire their rooms were in.

When they reached the door with the sapphire stone embedded in it Eragon turned to him and opened his mouth to undoubtedly thank him, but Murtagh would have none of it and simply pushed the rider into the room, following behind him. The younger rider started to say something, but Murtagh cut him off.

"Your injuries need to be healed." Eragon frowned at him.

"I know how to bandage wounds."

Murtagh mentally rolled his eyes. Same old stubborn Eragon. He reached out and gently placed a hand on the other riders shredded cheek, murmuring, "waise heill." Eragon stared at him with wide eyes and then a red blush started to darken his face as the bloody cuts faded to replace heated, but whole, skin. Murtagh smirked. He found it amusing to make Eragon blush like that. He slowly pulled his hand away from the smooth skin to repeat the healing process on the other cheek. With eragon's new fair skin tone it was ten times easier to watch the blush deepen from the intimate gesture as the other cheek healed. He reached around and gingerly felt the wound on the back of Eragon's head and healed that too. Then without a word he turned and left, closing the door behind him. Maybe there was something to what thorn had said after all.

**To be Continued...**


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